The Right Reasons
by SixPerfections
Summary: Taylor just wanted to make friends. Unfortunately for her she triggered with a power that only isolated her further. When the good guys start to treat her like a walking time bomb or an exploitable tool it's not that surprising when she's tempted to walk a darker path. Taylor triggers with a different power story. M for the same reasons as Worm.
1. Origin 101

**Worm is owned by Wildbow. **

**Summary: Taylor just wanted to make friends. Unfortunately for her she triggered with a power that only isolated her further. When the good guys start to treat her like a walking time bomb or an exploitable tool it's not that surprising when she's tempted to walk a darker path. Taylor triggers with a different power story. M for the same reasons as Worm.**

**This story will have a strong Taylor/Panacea friendship and **_**maybe**_** romance. I haven't decided yet. If you have any opinions or inputs feel free to share them.**

00000

I screamed. I panicked. The inside of that locker was horrifying, filled to the brim with bugs and rotting used pads and tampons. I threw up and gagged at the smell. There was a moment when I felt I was _this close _to completely losing it and having a complete blinding panic attack. If I had lost it and despaired right then everything might have been different.

But then in the midst of the most horrible situation of my life my mind turned to Emma.

I'd loved her. I'd truly loved her without reservation in the way only children can. She had been my best friend who had been almost as important to me as my dad. In some ways she had been even more important as I had shared absolutely _everything_ with her. She had probably been the best part of my life.

Then she betrayed me. I knew it had already been a year and a half but I don't think I'd ever truly dealt with the loss. I'd trusted her and she had stabbed me in the back with no explanation. No justification. She'd gone from being the best part of my life to the one who made me terrified to get up to go to school in the morning.

Now this, stuck in my own locker covered in disgusting filth and my own vomit. I was so close to panicking and completely losing it, so damn close but something stronger overcame me at that moment. Something I didn't even know I was capable of.

Rage. Overwhelming angry vindictive rage that completely overwhelmed all reason.

Emma. Emma. _**Emma**_. Her two flunkies helped but _she_ was the keystone behind my misery. At that moment I wanted to hurt her. I wanted to hurt her as badly as she had hurt me and hurt her worse besides, keep on inflicting pain on her until I made her feel as powerless as she had made me feel. I was going to make it so she could never hurt me again and force her to be my friend again to replace everything I had lost. I wanted to turn things around and _own her life_ the way she had completely taken over mine.

It wasn't even remotely rational but I was far from rational at that point. I just felt pain and loss and wanted to both lash out at my tormentor and take back what had been taken from me. I screamed and this time it was a bloodcurdling inhuman sound of primal rage that scared even me.

(Two figures in the depth of space and time soaring over the Earth. Endless echoes, vibrations cutting across all different realities. Learn. Move. Consume.)

Then suddenly I was in the school hallway tripping over myself and falling forward. I was so surprised I barely got my arms underneath me to soften the blow. I hit the ground hard and had the air was knocked out of my lungs.

I lay on the ground confused and still riding high from emotion when someone grabbed my arm and tried to help me up to standing. Passively I let them get me to my feet as I stared ahead while my mind tried to sort of what had just happened. The adrenaline pounded through my veins and blood rushed through my ears making it hard to think clearly.

"Jesus Em, are you ok? Don't go tripping over your own two feet now," said a voice next to me that tried to make a joke but still sounded concerned. It was a voice I recognized. I should know because I had grown to dread and fear it over the last year and a half.

I turned my head to find Sophia Hess holding my arm looking for all the world like she was concerned about me. She had a soft look on her face I'd never seen before. That look did absolutely nothing to put me at ease. If she was looking at _me_ that way it was just going to be a ploy to get my guard down. Wouldn't be the first time they'd tried something like that.

"Don't touch me!" I yelled at her yanking my arm from her grasp. I took a few steps back as Sophia looked at me wide eyed like I had grown an extra head. That's when I realized something.

The voice that had come out of my mouth didn't sound like my own voice. It had been higher pitched and more pleasant sounding than my voice had ever been even if I had just yelled at Sophia. My lingering rage was starting to give way to confusion and a thread of fear.

"Whoa, it's ok Em," Sophia said holding her hands up, "no need to freak out everything's cool," she said but instead of looking angry at me she just looked confused.

"Emma are you ok? Do you want us to take you to the nurse's office or something?" said another concerned voice behind me that I recognized. Turning my head I saw it was exactly who I thought it would be. Madison was standing there looking at me with a look that was both confused and worried. Why was she being nice to me? Why were both of them being nice to me?

And… and why where they calling me Emma?

"Why… what…" I stammered, backing away so I could keep both of them in my sight. That damn voice again that didn't sound anything like mine. I was wide eyed and hyperventilating and feeling vaguely light headed. "The locker… why are you being nice to me? You stuffed me in a fucking locker!" I yelled and I knew I sounded more than a little crazed.

"What…?" said Sophia looking incredulous, "We came up with that plan together. You're not saying what I think you're saying are you? You're not suddenly going soft on that Taylor bitch?"

_That Taylor bitch_. I realized that Sophia didn't recognize me. Neither of them did. Why didn't they recognize me? It should have been obvious to them who I was. My mind raced as I tried to figure out what the hell was going on.

Then I started to notice a few things that felt different. My balance felt different. I took stock of my body and my eyes widened and my mouth opened in disbelief as I started to notice things I hadn't before. There was a noticeable… weight, mass I guess on my hips and butt that had never been there before and was making me feel a little awkward standing up. Then there was a definite weight on my chest that most definitely had _not _ been there before. I looked down in disbelief. It looked like I had breasts. _Big_ breasts. Those had _definitely_ not been there before.

Looking down at myself I also noticed what I was wearing. Expensive flats with a deep red skirt and a long sleeved top in pink patterned with white flowers. I knew these clothes. I knew them because I had seen them before.

They were Emma's.

An ugly dreadful spark of suspicion started to form in my head.

"You know you shouldn't worry too much about her. Someone will let her out of there eventually," said Madison sounding a mix of worried and annoyed.

"She's still in that locker?" I asked while looking at my hands. Except they didn't look like my hands. The fingers weren't as thin and long and they were less bony. The palms were rounder and just a little bit bigger.

"She should be. Doubt anyone's let her out yet. Students know better than to fuck up this prank for us too soon," said Sophia a definite note of disapproval in her voice.

"Oh my God… still in the locker…" I said as I looked at my hands. Then suddenly I had to see.

I had to know what was in that locker.

Because suddenly I felt like I was going crazy.

I took one last wide eyed look at Sophia and Madison before I turned on my heel and started running.

"Hey! Emma," called out Madison but I ignored her. She hadn't been calling out to me. She had to have seen Emma show up all of a sudden. Had to. That was the only explanation that made any sense.

I took off running down the halls at top speed as fast as I could. It was incredibly awkward. The balance of my body was all wrong and I almost tripped and fell on my face twice. Students looked at me incredulously as I ran but I ignored them. I had to see what was in my locker. I felt if I did somehow everything would finally start making some kind of sense.

When I reached my locker there was a small crowd of students gathered around it whispering, most of them just staring at it and a good few of them with little smiles on their faces. I pushed past the crowd and ran up to my locker. I almost puked. The smell was indescribably horrible. Covering my nose with one hand I frantically reached for the lock.

It wasn't my combination lock. It was a new looking padlock and I didn't have the key. At that moment it also registered that there was no one inside the locker making any kind of racket. That was a good thing right? Or wasn't it? I didn't know.

I'll admit I wasn't very rational. In fact I was downright hysterical. I started to try to twist the lock off with my bare hands. When that didn't work I started hitting the locker and yelling that someone was trapped inside. I heard people talking around me and to me but it was all just background noise to the rushing of blood in my ears. All that I cared about was getting the locker open. I had a bad feeling and somehow thought if I could get that locker open fast enough maybe everything would be fine.

I think someone yelled at me and tried to pull me away from the locker but I wouldn't let them. Completely losing it in front of my locker must have been quite the spectacle but I was already more or less used to public humiliation by then and this was too important. Someone must have called the teachers because at some point a few of them showed up.

Female adult hands tried to gently pull me away. I would have fought them except I saw Mr. Gladly step up with bolt cutters looking grim. He sent me a pitying concerned look before he used the cutters on the padlock. When he removed it and lifted the latch of the locker a heavy weight from the inside opened it and crashed onto the floor.

Lying there on the floor covered in bugs, puke and rotted feminine products was a skinny girl I knew very well. Wide mouth, dark curly hair, tall and with no figure to speak of. Her glasses were askew and half hanging off her face. She lay there with her body twisted awkwardly looking like some kind of broken movie prop. Her eyes were glassy and she wasn't moving. She was so still. Like she was dead.

"Oh my God. Someone call an ambulance!" said Mr. Gladly sounding panicked.

I knew that face. It was me. Taylor Hebert. That was me. What was I doing on the floor? Why wasn't I moving?

"Emma? Emma dear take deep breaths. Come on you don't need to see this," an adult female voice said as she gently tried to pull me away.

I was hyperventilating. I kept looking at me, but it wasn't me. I was here. But I had been in the locker. Why had I been in the locker? Why wasn't I moving? My vision started to narrow to a point and I had was having a hard time staying on my feet.

"Come on dear I'm sure everything will be fine. Sophia! Come help me with Emma will you?"

The last thing I saw was Sophia looking down at me with a disapproving glare before everything went black.


	2. Origin 102

**00000**

Slowly I came to. The first thing I noticed was that I was lying on a bed with my legs propped up. The second thing I noticed was how odd my body felt. It felt wrong, alien. Everything was a little off, how my back and butt felt pressed against the bed, the length of my torso, the feel of my face. And especially my chest. That was very noticeable. I opened my eyes and the sunlight coming through the window caused me to blink rapidly.

"Oh! You're awake," said a voice. I felt something go around my arm – a blood pressure cuff my brain supplied – as someone sat on the bed next to me.

"Tell me, how are you feeling?" came the voice again. I managed to open my eyes without blinding myself. The school nurse whose name I didn't remember was sitting next to me. I looked around. I was in the nurse's office at the school.

"Uhm… ok I guess," I muttered not really sure what else to say. I was still feeling disoriented. What had happened?

The nurse finished taking my blood pressure. "It's a little bit low but that's to be expected. I'm going to go get your father. He's been worried sick about you," she said to me.

I nodded to her, feeling grateful. I was feeling confused. I had that feeling like a word is on the tip of your tongue but you can't quite remember it, except I was feeling that I was forgetting something important. At least Dad was here. I wasn't quite sure why yet but I really felt like I could use a hug. I just hoped I didn't worry him too much.

I made an effort and sat up. There was that completely noticeable weight on my chest again that kept tugging my attention because I'd never felt something like it before. I looked down and saw breasts covered in a pink and white top. It was then that it all started coming back to me.

Getting stuffed in the locker. Then… out of the locker. Somehow. Noticing I looked like… like…

In a panic I grabbed a strand of my hair and brought it in front of my eyes. It was red. My hair was red. It was red like…

Like Emma's.

I swallowed hard. The impossible thought I'd first had on that hallway was looking more and more like the right answer. I was in Emma's body. Or you know maybe I shape shifted into her but that didn't really make sense. But suddenly being in Emma's body… that was impossible wasn't it? Maybe there was another explanation.

Before I could do any more thinking about my situation a man strode into the nurse's office looking worried. But it wasn't my dad like I had been expecting. My eyes widened as he crossed the room in long strides and pulled me into an almost bone crushing hug.

"Mr. Barnes," I choked out.

"Emma, I was so worried. Are you ok?" he said earnestly seemingly not hearing or ignoring me referring to him as Mr. Barnes.

What was I supposed to say to that? I'm not your daughter, but I think I might have stolen her body? I was sure that wouldn't go over well and I was still way too rattled to deal with any drama. So I lied.

"I'm fine," I said pushing myself away from Mr. Barnes as fast as I could without seeming too rude.

He pulled back and held my hands looking at me. "It must have been so horrible for you to see that. No matter what anybody says I want you to know that it's not your fault. And I also want you to know that I'll take care of everything. It was an accident and I want you to know I still love you no matter what."

I stared. The way he was talking was so intense it was giving me a very bad feeling. "What was an accident?" I asked. It was an effort not to jump at the high pitched voice coming out of my mouth.

He gave me a pitying look. "You don't remember? You freaked out after… after they found Taylor's body. They're not sure what happened but she died in that locker."

Everything froze and my eyes widened. Then I remembered locker opening and me, Taylor, tumbling out of it like broken doll. Or not me. My body.

"Dead?" I asked in a hollow voice.

Mr. Barnes nodded solemnly. "The paramedics just declared her dead a few minutes ago. They were getting ready to take her to the morgue. Emma," he said seriously and turned me to look him in the eye, "I know you and your friends put her in that locker. People started coming forward when they found out she was dead. I'm going to protect you but I won't be able to help your friends and you need to do and say exactly what I tell you. Do you understand?"

I just stared at him. I was dead and people were still looking to excuse Emma's actions and help her get away with it. Not even a single word of reprimand from her dad. Not one. In fact he was already thinking about getting their story straight so Emma could escape responsibility for my murder.

That was the final death stroke for any lingering respect or trust I had in any adults or authority figures.

"I have to go to the bathroom," I said standing up and roughly brushing passed him. It caused him to stumble and part of me wished I had knocked him on his ass and broken something.

"Ok but come right back. And don't talk to anyone until we figure out what we're going to say!" he called after me. I ignored him and fled the nurse's office.

As I strode out onto the hallway my mind was finally putting all the pieces together. I was a parahuman. Being stuck in that locker had been enough to trigger my powers. Now I had some kind of body snatching or body possessing power.

That's when it hit me and I stopped walking. I had powers. I was like Alexandria… sort of. I could be a hero. I could save people and help clean up the city.

Then reality came crashing down and I kept walking. Everyone was saying my body was _dead_. I was seriously hoping that my power would let me hop back into my own body when I found it. I mean it made sense right? I could borrow a body before hopping back into my own? If I could get to my body I could probably figure out how to hop back in it. With that thought in mind I started running hoping I could catch the paramedics before they took my body away.

Ignoring the feedback of how unusual Emma's body felt I followed the line of gawkers and police. I startled some of them and a police officer called out to me but I ignored them. I was looking for the ambulance. If I could find it that meant my body was still here. I really didn't look forward to having to track it down all the way to the morgue.

Turning a corner out the front of the school I saw a pair of paramedics starting to load a stretcher with a black body bag on top of it like you would see in those TV shows. I ran to them knocking one of the paramedics on his butt as I pushed him out of the way to get the black bag.

"Hey!" one of them protested but I ignored him. My hands fumbled as I grabbed for the zipper on the bag. After I few tries I managed a firm grip and pulled the black bag open. There I was. My body looking very much not alive.

Not knowing what else to do I touched the face of my body. I tried to will myself to go into it, to transfer back to my body. I'd read that powers were supposed to be instinctual to use taking almost no effort at all. It wasn't working like that. The cheek under my hand felt cold and dead and there was nothing preternatural happening at all.

"Hey you can't do that!" I heard one of the paramedics say and he grabbed my arm to pull me away. I was thinking of my power when I turned to look at him. That was when I understood.

He was _alive_. That's what was missing. I needed a living body to jump to. As mysterious as my new power was to me I at least instinctively knew that much for a fact.

However that meant… my body was not alive. I couldn't jump to anything that was dead. I knew that. So that meant…

Was I stuck in Emma's body for good now? What happened to Emma if that was how my power worked?

I swallowed bile as I was pretty sure I knew the answer. Jumping to Emma had killed her. I'd taken over and she was gone. I was a murderer. I felt my legs give out from under me and I collapsed.

"Hey, are you alright?" said the paramedic holding my arm now sounding concerned. He knelt down and looked into my eyes searching for anything that might be wrong. Little did he know. Everything was wrong. I'd just killed somebody.

Or did I? I wasn't sure. Maybe Emma wasn't gone. Maybe she was still inside me, somehow.

"I triggered and I think I might have killed someone by accident," I said to him so low he had to struggle to hear me. "Please you have to call the Protectorate. Maybe they can do something."

**00000**

After they got a half incoherent story out of me the cops and paramedics were convinced enough to call the PRT in. There was a lot of shouting involved when I tried to convince the PRT I was actually the girl who was cooling on the paramedic's stretcher. It got even worse when Mr. Barnes came out and started threatening everyone with a lawsuit if they took his little girl away. Fortunately the lead PRT officer knew procedure and the law well enough not to be intimidated by a high power defense attorney. They took me in the van to the PRT headquarters, a converted oil rig floating in the sky above the bay thanks to the wonders of some powerful Tinker tech. I should have been in awe of getting to set foot in the PRT headquarters but I was still in too much shock to appreciate anything but the ground in front of me as the officers led me into the facility.

I had expected to be led into some kind of interview room or maybe a medical facility. Instead they led me into what looked essentially like a small apartment. The PRT officers explained that they used the apartment in case of new parahumans with unknown, uncontrollable and/or dangerous powers. I was told to make myself comfortable, to not try to leave the room and to answer the phone when it rang. I nodded showing my agreement knowing there really wasn't anything I could do about it. The officer gave me a sympathetic smile and assured me someone would get in contact with my parents before he left and locked the surprisingly thick and high-tech door behind him.

Looking around I saw what the officer had meant about the apartment being set up with dangerous parahumans not in control of their powers in mind. There were no windows and the furniture was either extremely solid and bolted to the floor or cheap enough to be easily replaceable. The walls looked normal but when I touched them they felt anything but. Probably some kind of special Tinker made material was used to make the walls. If I had to guess there were cameras everywhere and I could see the nozzles on the ceiling where I would bet containment foam would flood the room if the parahuman got out of hand. The apartment was a cell. A very nice, polite cell but a cell none the less. Not that I could really blame them for taking the precaution with me. The first time my powers manifested I had killed somebody. Or maybe not. I was still holding out hope that somehow the situation could be salvaged and I hadn't really killed Emma for good.

The reason I held out some hope is that I felt _something_ in my mind and body that might have been Emma's presence. I just knew that somehow my mind didn't feel the same anymore and I could conceivably attribute the changes to maybe Emma being inside me and whole somewhere. It sounded like a long shot but I had to keep hope alive or else I would have to face up that I had killed somebody. She may have been a brutal bitch to me for the last year and a half but I never wanted her dead or even seriously injured. As pathetic as it was part of me still treasured the friendship we once had even if it was irrevocably marred by everything she did to me afterwards. I didn't want Emma to be dead because of me.

I sat down on the couch by the phone and cradled my head in my hands. Things felt in limbo. Part of me knew deep down that Emma was dead but I didn't want to admit it, not yet. I'd never thought of myself as a person to go in for denial but on that day I was weak and indulged in it shamelessly. There was always the chance someone could swoop in and fix things.

After about fifteen minutes the phone next to the couch rang. With some trepidation I reached over and picked it up.

"Hello?" I said.

"Hello. Am I speaking with Taylor Hebert?" asked a female voice politely.

I nodded and waited a few seconds before realizing she couldn't see me. Or maybe she could over the cameras but she wouldn't over the phone. "Yes," I answered.

"Hello Taylor. This is Miss Militia. How are you holding up?"

My eyes widened in surprise. Miss Militia was the number two person in charge of the Brockton Bay Protectorate. She was a big deal and the real deal when it came to being a hero. I had at best expected to get prodded by scientists and to have to speak to some PRT administrators. I certainly hadn't expected one of the most famous heroes in the city to call me up and talk to me.

"I'm… well, not really fine. I'm kind of hoping I didn't really kill someone."

There was a long silence on the other side of the phone that didn't bode well. I felt my heart drop to my stomach.

"We've consulted some people and have taken into account their advice and also our personal experience. Using our best judgment we've decided to pronounce Emma Barnes as dead. I'm sorry."

"Oh," I said in a small voice. The Protectorate and PRT had been my best and last hope that Emma wasn't really dead. I was expecting they would run some tests to find out or something. Well I didn't know that much about how powers worked and they obviously did. If they said Emma was dead I had no choice but to accept that she was really gone.

"I just want you to understand Taylor that none of this is your fault. We got the preliminary report from the police and we know about the girls that were involved with the locker incident," Miss Militia said and for a second her calm voice slipped and she sounded genuinely angry, "and there will be repercussions. Your triggering was not your fault. The form your powers took is not your fault either. Powers are inherently dangerous and this isn't the first time someone has accidentally been killed during a trigger event. This is a case of a criminally malicious prank leading to an accidental death. There is plenty of blame to go around but none of it rests with you."

I didn't say anything though I didn't particularly agree with Miss Militia's assessment. They say that whatever you're feeling or wanting during your trigger event has something to do with how your powers manifest. I had been thinking some pretty disturbing things and they had all been focused on Emma. Miss Militia was wrong. This _was_ my fault.

"What happens now?" I asked hoarsely.

"We need to get a handle on how your powers work. Obviously they are very dangerous and it would be irresponsible for us to let you go without at least making sure you are in control of them. We'd appreciate it if you'd be willing to stay while we work on that. I don't think it will be more than a few days."

She made it sound like I had a choice. I was pretty sure I didn't. "That's fine," I said.

"We've finally been able to get in contact with your father. He should be here soon but I'm afraid we can't let him into the room. It's just a precaution for safety until we learn more about what you can do."

I felt a flare of anger at the suggestion that I would hurt my father but battered down the feeling. I could see it from their point of view and they were just playing it safe. It had to be alarming for everyone involved that I could seemingly kill so easily and without meaning to.

Then I started to think about how my dad would feel and felt even worse. I looked and sounded like Emma now. How would my dad feel about that? His little girl was gone and in her place would be a stranger. I would have done anything to keep from hurting my dad. Gaining these powers was quickly becoming something I wished had never happened to me.

"Can I talk to him when he gets here?"

"Sure. Get some rest I'm sure you've had a hard day. If you need anything just pick up the phone and someone will make sure to get it for you."

"Ok."

"Take care. We'll talk again soon," she said and I heard the line disconnect with a click.

I put the phone back on the receiver and curled up on the couch. So many things had happened that day and any one of a number of them would be enough to scar me for life. All of them taken together in rapid succession just left my mind feeling blank and overwhelmed. Maybe that is what being in shock felt like. I closed my eyes and to my surprise managed to drift off a few minutes later.

**00000**

**What did you think? Next chapter: Panacea. **

**I always pictured Emma like a mix between Karen Gillan and Molly Quinn. **


	3. Origin 103

**00000**

I looked at my – _Emma's_ – face in front of the mirror. It was too soon to start thinking of it as _my_ face, maybe it would never feel right to do so. Even dressed in the baggy sweats the PRT had given me it was clear to me that Emma's body was superior to how mine had been in almost every single way. The face I was looking at as much as I hated to admit it was very attractive, about two parts cute and one part sexy and all around appealing. It had full cupid-bow lips, a small nose and large attractive hazel-green eyes. You would never know form looking at that face that it belonged to someone was (_had been) _a malicious bully and a traitor.

Emma's body was also amazing, everything a pin up girl was supposed to be even at sixteen. The bra it had been wearing had been a 30-C though the breasts somehow managed to look larger than just a C cup. Then as you moved down it went to an annoyingly narrow waist then flared out to curvy hips and a generous perky ass. I'd never had tits, curves or an ass before and though Emma had been about five months older than me I knew my original _real_ body wouldn't have looked anything like this even five years down the road.

The body I now had, Emma's body, was annoying perfect and for some reason that _irritated_ the _hell_ out of me. Why would someone cruel and mean like Emma be given a body most girls would literally kill for? Why had she been rich, and charismatic, and popular and flush with friends? Why was her life so good when she was such a rotten awful horrible human being?

Or rather why HAD her life been so good. Maybe my killing her had been some kind of heavenly karmic retribution for being such a right bitch.

Yeah, I didn't believe that. I had been the one to kill her. After the initial shock wore off I felt guilty but not as guilty as I think I should have. Not feeling as guilty as I should in turn caused me to feel even more guilty. Other things increased my guilt as well. Thoughts like _I'm glad Emma's dead_ and _this seems like poetic justice_ cropped up regularly and only made me feel like a horrible human being.

Still I couldn't deny part of me was glad Emma was dead. She'd never torture me again. I also held out hope that with the main instigator gone Sophia and Madison would now leave me alone if I ever went back to school. It was like a huge weight was taken off my shoulders. Then I thought about how I was feeling and went back to feeling guilty and like I was a terrible person for being glad I'd killed a sixteen year old girl no matter what the reasons.

I hated it. I wished I could just go back to my old body and not have a constant reminder of what I'd done looking back at me in every mirror.

It had been three days since I had been at the PRT facility. Mostly I had been left to my own devices in the apartment except for the hours each day when I was escorted out by four PRT officers armed with foam sprayers for my tests and evaluations. They were always polite and professional but there was a constant undercurrent of unease and I couldn't help but feel like some sort of criminal what with being escorted everywhere by armed guards. The hallways were always suspiciously empty of people wherever I passed and I never saw another soul except those that were directly involved in working with me. I knew they were isolating me but it was in a way dehumanizing and it made me feel like I was a leper.

In the last few days I had been prodded and tested in every way imaginable. I had been scanned by machines I recognized as medical equipment and lot of machines that I had no idea what they did. If I had to guess there had probably been a number of Tinker made gizmos for testing parahumans. I'd been made to run on a treadmill, lift weights, had every fluid taken including a very scary and invasive spinal tap, had to suffer through the embarrassment of a _thorough_ gynecological exam, and had been forced to talk to a shrink for hours on end. Though everyone was always very professional and polite I couldn't help but feel like somebody's science experiment.

The worst part? None of the doctors or scientists had told me _anything_. They wouldn't even tell me how much weight I managed to lift on their machines. When I asked they all answered with some version of "it's policy not to discuss ongoing testing until it is completed." It sounded reasonable until I realized they were withholding information about what was happening to _me_ and I hadn't been given any kind of satisfying reason for it. They promised they would fill me in at the end but that didn't stop me from being extremely irritated at the whole thing. I had been there three days and I didn't have any more answers from the PRT than I had when I first walked in the door.

That wasn't to say I didn't have _any_ answers. Frankly what I had found on my own was a bit disturbing but it probably explained some things, like why I'd had this vague feeling like I wasn't alone in my own head and body anymore.

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror I tapped into a bit of 'Emma' that was left inside me. My body easily and smoothly flowed into various poses I could tell were very often used in modeling. In clothing catalogues and such there were typically a set number of poses and mannerisms that were used and Emma seemed to have learned them all quite well. I struck pose after pose with little effort something I would have had no idea how to do before I triggered. I kind of hated it since it only made Emma's body look better but I was determined to figure out the full extent of the remnants that Emma had left behind.

So far it seemed largely like a lot of motor memory was retained. Besides the modeling poses I found that I could effortlessly write in Emma's handwriting just as easily as my own. To my own continued irritation Emma's handwriting was a lot prettier and neater than mine. If I focused my fingers would fly in patterns that I guessed would be Emma's commonly used passwords. All that was neat but it didn't seem all that useful and not something that would help me have a life as a cape. Maybe if Emma had been a martial arts fanatic but as it was I don't think I gained any useful 'muscle memory' skills.

There were also other ways in which I could feel some lingering influence of Emma. I first noticed this when I was eating. There had been a chocolate dessert during one particular meal. When I ate it it had tasted amazing and I ravenously consumed it. It was only afterwards that I remembered I was largely indifferent to chocolate and that _Emma_ had been the one who had craved it constantly when we were kids. I thought maybe this just meant I had new taste buds but I disproved that theory when I found I enjoyed my favorite foods just as much as Emma's. Some of them I knew Emma didn't like, such as pickles but I still liked them just as much as always. I pondered this for a while before a disturbing theory came to me.

What if whatever is left of Emma isn't affecting my taste buds but was instead affecting my mind?

I tried to test this with varying degrees of success. Thankfully I still hated musicals (except Disney ones) even though Emma had always loved them. I didn't spontaneously develop a liking for pastel colors and still preferred my wardrobe to have a dark or muted palette. But at the same time…

Sometimes I found myself experiencing emotions which I knew I wouldn't have felt before. When one of the young guards was checking me out when he thought I wasn't looking part of me felt weirded out but part of me also felt downright _smug_ at the attention. The two feelings were so opposed to each other it clued me in that something unusual was going on. It didn't take me long to theorize that Emma would have felt smug and pleased when people checked her out. Why else would she have become a model?

After that I started scrutinizing my emotional reactions to everything. I realized that while my emotions were at the forefront I could still feel Emma's emotions to most situations under the surface. It became even more disturbing when I realized I could bring those emotions to the forefront and my thinking would change. I never realized until then how much our emotional reactions shaped our thinking. I didn't become Emma but I could become extremely Emma-_like_ if I wanted to. After that realization I put a stop to that line of experimentation. Occasionally some of _her_ feelings would rise to the surface against my will but thankfully it wasn't anything I couldn't control.

It also offered me way more insight into who Emma had been than I ever wanted to know. For my own sanity I tried not to think about it too much.

I stopped and stepped out into the small bedroom to look at the digital clock. It was eight thirty so if they kept to schedule it should be another half hour before the goon squad came to escort me to another battery of tests. I went out to the living room and plopped down on the couch flicking on the large TV that was built right into the wall.

I had been channel surfing for a few minutes when the phone rang. I looked at it curiously. That was odd, usually I only received phone calls in the afternoon after all the testing was finished.

I reached over and picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"Taylor, good morning. How are you doing?" said the voice on the other end.

It was Miss Militia on the other side. While I hadn't met her in person yet she had called every afternoon after the testing was done to ask me how I was doing and ask if I needed anything. She had been a nice person and had even let me unload on her about how frustrated I was with how the testing was going. However her calling in the morning was a break from routine and that made me sit up and pay attention.

"Fine I guess. What's up? Why the early morning call?" I asked. Hopefully it was to tell me they were finished with the testing and they could finally tell me what they'd found out about me.

"We're just about done here and you should be able to go home later this afternoon."

"Well – that's great," I said and mostly meant it. While I didn't want to be stuck in the PRT building forever I wasn't looking forward to starting my life again with the body of the girl I'd killed. Still, getting poked and prodded every day got old real fast.

"We have one more person we want to take a look at you before we wrap things up. She's a friend of the Protectorate and is coming to look at you as a favor to us. I'm sure you've heard of her before. Panacea?"

"What? From New Wave?" I asked, my mind whirling as I tried to remember everything I knew about her. Her real name was Amy Dallon, she was adopted into the family and could heal with a touch. She was part of New Wave, a team of heroes who were also a family made up entirely of parahumans. They were also one of the few groups in the country who operated unmasked which I'd always thought was either incredibly brave or incredibly foolish. Besides that I didn't really know anything about Panacea.

"The same. I'll be honest with you, depending on parahuman abilities in some cases we are able to find out a great deal about them through testing and sometimes we can determine very little about their powers and how they work. Your case is one of the latter. Other than your increased physical abilities and what you've shared about what you've discovered we've found out very little about your abilities and situation."

I frowned at that feeling frustrated and incredibly annoyed. All those tests and they haven't found out anything? Then what was the point of all the secrecy? Though everyone had been very professional with me this whole experience was leaving a bad taste in my mouth when it came to the PRT.

Then the other thing she Miss Militia had said registered. "Increased physical abilities?" I asked sounding excited. Maybe I'd done a lot better in the weight lifting and treadmill running than I'd thought.

"We'll discuss that later. Policy says we hold off on briefing you until we have all the information," said Miss Militia in a polite but no nonsense tone.

I had to keep myself from reacting. It seemed like such a stupid policy but it would be worse than useless for me to complain. It's not like I would be able to change her mind anyway, everyone at the PRT I'd met so far seemed obsessed with doing everything by the book.

"Fine. So why was Panacea called in? I thought she was just a healer?" I asked changing the subject and trying not to sound too irritated.

"She gains a perfect understanding of person's biology just by touching them. In the past this has been very helpful in trying to understand parahuman powers. After you are finished with her and she gives her report we can get the ball rolling on getting you home. If everything goes well that should be sometime in the late afternoon. I'll make sure someone notifies your dad when he can come pick you up."

My stomach did flip flops at that. Though I'd spoken to him every day on the phone he still hadn't seen me in Emma's body. Though he didn't say so I think just hearing my voice sound so different had freaked him out. I couldn't imagine what it would be like when he finally saw me face to face.

"Ok."

"Just sit tight. Panacea will come to you when she gets here. It should be in an hour or so."

"An hour. Ok."

"I'll come talk to you before you leave. Take care. I'll see you then."

"Ok. Thanks."

With that she hung up.

Well it looked like I was going to get to meet not one but two famous capes that day. I was glad because I had stated to think I wasn't going to be able to meet Miss Militia face to face. Suddenly I was feeling nervous. These two people were capes, heroes, the real deal. Something I wanted to be. I didn't know if that would be possible. So far it didn't seem like I had any useful powers for fighting crime.

I wished I had something nicer to wear but all I had were PRT issues sweats and the clothes I'd been wearing, or rather Emma had been wearing, the day I triggered. While I didn't really want to put on Emma's clothes I figured it was better than the clothes they had given me for meeting two bonafide heroes. I'd just have to try and avoid mirrors until I got home.

**00000**

Fifty three minutes after my call with Miss Militia – I kept looking at the clock – there was the usual courtesy knock on the door. I stood up and straightened the deep red skirt I was wearing and tried not to fidget nervously. A few seconds later the heavy doors swung open revealing two PRT officers escorting a third person in.

My first impression of Amy Dallon was how normal she looked. I always imagined meeting a hero would be a larger than life experience but Panacea looked like a normal girl who was maybe a year or two older than me. She was a bit mousy looking, shorter than me with brown ringlets. Her eyes were shy and brown and she had a large number of freckles on her face. Amy wasn't conventionally pretty but still managed to come across as somewhat cute. She wasn't wearing her New Wave hero uniform and instead wore baggy jeans and a baggy sweater. The girl was unassuming and stood with a slight slouch that made me think she didn't have a great deal of confidence which was strange since I thought she went up against criminals and villainous capes on a regular basis. We just stared at each other for a few seconds and I realized that both of us were at least somewhat equal in levels of socially awkward. For some reason this put me more at ease around her.

"Hi, uh Taylor Hebert. Thanks for coming to see me. This is the first time I've ever met a hero," I said, and then wanted to slap myself for saying something stupid. Thinking it was too late to take it back I held my hand out for her to shake and hoped for the best. She didn't seem the type to ridicule me like Madison or Sophia or – yeah.

Panacea – no Amy, gave me a shy self-conscious smile as she shook my hand. "I'm not much of a hero. I just patch people up after the fact. My sister and everyone else in our family do all the real hero work."

I blinked. Whatever I had expected to hear from her, that had not been it. "I'm sure you don't give yourself enough credit. What you can do is amazing."

She shrugged a little self-consciously but didn't let go of my hand. Instead she just looked at me a curious expression on her face.

"Panacea?" I asked.

She seemed to jump at her name and dropped my hand like hot coals. "Sorry. I should have asked first. I got a look at your biology and then kept looking because it's so interesting. But I really shouldn't do that sort of thing without asking permission first," she said, looking away and appearing ashamed or embarrassed.

"Hey it's totally cool," I said, trying to reassure her and not worry about how my biology was 'interesting'. I didn't like seeing a person bet themselves up especially when there was no reason for it. "That's what you came here for right? You already had my implied permission. Besides who would turn down having Panacea coming to help them?"

That seemed to work as her shoulders relaxed and she even cracked a tiny smile. "Amy," she said.

"What?" I replied intelligently.

"Call me Amy. If you don't mind that is," she said in a rush.

"Oh. Well no I don't mind. As long as you call me Taylor we're cool," I said trying to make a little joke out of it. We shared a wry little smile of mutual understanding. The both of us were socially awkward and not that great at dealing with other people. There was something like a recognition of kindred spirits – or at least sharing an understanding of social awkwardness – and I decided I quite liked Amy Dallon.

**00000**

Not long after that we sat down on the couch while I tried to ignore the two PRT officers with containment foam sprayers standing by the door. After asking permission Amy took my hand in hers so she could examine my biology. I looked on anxiously as her face went from curious, to frowning, to understanding over the course of about five minutes. I wanted to let her work but the temptation to speak and ask her what she was finding out was killing me.

Eventually she let go of my hand. I looked at her anxiously as she seemed to be collecting her thoughts.

"Well?" I asked after a few seconds when I couldn't contain it anymore.

"Usually," she began cautiously, "I can find out everything about an organism with just a touch. The reason I took so long with you is that there were some odd things about you that I couldn't really get a read on so I had to infer a lot of information. It has to do with how your powers affect your biology and though I can get a perfect picture of someone's biology I can't do the same thing with their powers. I can only sort of see the effect they have on the body."

"Ok," I said not subtly prompting her to continue as I dragged out the word.

She took another few moments before continuing. "Well the simplest thing is that you should qualify for a low Brute rating. I think that somehow you brought the imprint of your original body over even though I have no idea how that worked. It's probably safe to say that you have the physical capabilities of two teenage girls. You should have at least double the strength, agility and stamina capabilities that you did before. Given how two 'bodies' synergize with each other you might be able to effectively triple your strength. It's hard to say for sure until you've been putting your muscles through their paces for a while. You might be able to play with the size and strength of your muscles a bit but it won't do much to boost your overall strength."

I took that in. Having the strength of two or three people didn't exactly put me in Alexandria levels of strength but it was better than the nothing I had been expecting. I'd been worried that my only ability would be to kill and steal someone's body. Then I went over the last part she said.

"What do you mean play with my muscles?" I asked curiously.

Amy gave me a long searching look. "Don't get too excited but I think you may be a low level Changer."

"Changer?" I said in surprise. I most definitely had not been expecting that.

Amy nodded. "I think you may be able to change back and forth with your original template, or maybe even become a mix of the two."

I opened and closed my mouth like a fish as I processed that information. "You mean... you mean you think I can change back to my real body?"

Amy winced at that. "You have to understand _this_ is your real body now. But yes I think because that template exists inside you and because of what I was able to see in your biology that you should be able to change back."

I frowned at the first part of that statement but was too excited to let it slow me down. "How do I change back?" I asked anxiously.

Amy smiled a little at my enthusiasm. "Let's go to the bathroom so we can use the mirror. I'm no expert at this but I think I can help you through it."

Moments later we were in front of the mirror in the bathroom with the PRT guards outside the door but thankfully out of sight. Amy and I were looking at my – _Emma's_ face in the mirror as I/it looked nervous and Amy looked thoughtful.

"If you can do this it should be fairly simple. I want you to try and remember what you looked like and try to make it happen. It should be a mental effort, sort of like trying hard to remember something you've forgotten," said Amy.

"Ok."

"Go ahead and give it a try," she said with a curious light in her eyes and an encouraging smile on her lips.

I took a deep breath frankly feeling a little nervous. If this didn't work it was going to be a devastating disappointment. Gathering in my courage I did as Amy suggested. I focused and tried to mentally _push_ myself into looking like the old me.

The result was instantaneous. I was just focusing on just my face but my entire body began to change. It looked like one of those face morph age progression videos changing over the course of a few seconds. Before I knew it my old face and body were looking at me in the mirror.

"Oh my gosh!" I exclaimed. I looked at Amy with a huge smile on my face as she looked at me amusedly. I couldn't contain myself and threw my arms around her in a big hug.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!" I gushed.

She patted me on the back a little awkwardly but I could hear the smile in her voice. "You're welcome."

I let her go and whipped back around to look in the mirror…

… only to come face to face with me looking like Emma again.

Amy, the traitor, chuckled at my horrified expression. "I told you that was your default body now. You probably have to maintain concentration to look like the original you. Don't worry I'm sure with practice you'll be able to look like yourself indefinitely without even thinking about it. Hopefully. As long as the transformation doesn't tire you out too much."

With an effort of will I saw my features and body once again melt from 'Emma' to 'Taylor'.

"That looks really cool," said Amy sounding pleased.

I touched my face just to make sure it was really me. "Wow. I'm really going to have to practice that."

"There's probably a few more things I should tell you before we wrap up here," said Amy still looking at me in the mirror.

I frowned a little bit at that. Amy had been the first genuinely pleasant interaction I'd had with somebody my age in what felt like an eternity. I certainly couldn't remember it happening at any time post betrayal. I was really reluctant for our time together to end.

Amy must have picked up on it from me. Suddenly she looked shy and uncomfortable.

"You know," she began haltingly, "Vicky keeps telling me I should make some friends my age. I don't know if you'd want to – I mean, maybe you don't, I-I it's a silly idea. You know never mind forget I said anything-"

"Amy," I interrupted, "um… would you, um…" damn it, why were the both of us so damn socially useless! "Would you like to like, hang out again… sometime, maybe?" I asked. I was being even more of a spaz than usual but I was asking to hang out with a hero. It's understandable if I was a little intimidated.

Amy seemed to really brighten at my suggestion and it was a little painful to see. It occurred to me then that Amy probably didn't have many friends and I wondered why that was. Social awkwardness aside Amy was a hero and a really sweet girl.

"Yes that would be great. So we should, uh exchange numbers and stuff later," she said with a smile. It was still a little shy but a lot more cheerful than before.

I nodded with a tentative smile and then turned back to the mirror. I made a face as I realized I looked like Emma again. Amy snickered at my scowling at the mirror. Traitor.

**00000**

We left the bathroom and sat back down on the couch again. The atmosphere between us was a lot less I-just-met-you-and-I-don't-know-you strained now and a lot more friendly. I didn't want to jinx myself but I really felt like Amy and I really clicked. Maybe it was that we had at least a few surface things in common and there was a sort of unspoken mutual understanding between us with the whole social awkwardness thing. I tentatively hoped that the two of us could grow to become close friends. That she was also a hero only made it ten kinds of more awesome.

However Amy became quite serious again as she explained the other things she said she had to share with me.

"One, I think your biology can only handle having two 'imprints' or 'bodies' inside you at one time. If you were to jump to someone else I'm almost positive you would lose one of the two bodies you have now to make room for the new one. Not that you should be jumping to anyone again because it would be, you know, murder," said Amy seriously and for the first time sounded like the hero I knew her to be.

I nodded, swallowing a lump in my throat as I remembered that I had killed Emma. Not that I had forgotten, I never would, but I had pushed it out of my mind for a short time while talking with Amy. "Don't worry I don't plan on jumping to anyone ever again. It's bad enough having to deal with the guilt of having done it on accident. I don't want to think how bad it would be if I did it on purpose," I said in a low voice, looking down at my hands.

"If your life is on the line through no fault of your own a case can be for self-defense. Just think of it like a gun. You're allowed to use it in if you have no other choice," said Amy in a more sympathetic voice. I just nodded not trusting myself to speak.

"Second, Miss Militia mentioned that you might have been interested in using your powers to fight crime," she said, making it into a half question.

"Yeah. I'd like to help if I can," I admitted.

Amy gave me a sad smile. "I'm sorry Taylor but I don't think you can. Your powers aren't really suited for the hero business. Your improved physical abilities would give you an edge against your run of the mill gangbanger but they wouldn't be enough to go up against any capes. And it goes without saying you can't really use your possession powers in the hero business. I would really, really recommend against becoming a cape. The powers of pretty much all the villain capes out there would chew you up and spit you out."

That was disappointing, seriously disappointing. I grimaced. If that was Amy's assessment I most likely wouldn't be offered a place in the Wards. Being two or three times stronger and tougher than a normal teenage girl just wasn't going to cut it against the likes of Kaiser, Hookwolf, Lung and all the other threats out there in the city. Hell even Uber and Leet had powers that could soundly trounce mine. But I wasn't ready to give up on the idea of being a hero just yet. I just nodded my agreement with Amy.

Amy's hand unexpectedly settled over mine. "I'm sorry. I can tell you really wanted to be a hero. If it's any consolation it's mostly just long hours, terrifying fights and having the freaks on Parahumans Online write really gross and disturbing things about you. A pretty crappy gig all things considered," said Amy seriously but with a bit of humor at the end.

I appreciated the effort to make me feel better. I gave her a little thankful smile and she pulled her hand back still looking at me a little worriedly but saying nothing further.

"Other than that there isn't really much to say," said Amy, "I should um get going," she said suddenly seeming shy again. "Did you still want to exchange numbers?" she asked a little uncertainly.

I realized she needed to leave and was quick to nod enthusiastically. "Yeah let me just write down my phone number for you."

We exchanged numbers and had a little awkward back and forth as we couldn't decide how to say goodbye. In the end Amy surprised me with a quick hug before practically fleeing from the room. I shook my head and smiled to myself after I was gone. Amy was probably the only person I'd ever met even worse at social situations than I was.

I sat back down on the couch and took a deep breath and let it out. I'd befriended a hero today. I wished I had a power as useful as hers but I couldn't be jealous of Amy, she had been much too nice to me for that. Hell she even showed me how to get my old body back.

I smiled at that thought. Until they called for me again I was going to spend the afternoon practicing how to stay in my _real_ body. Maybe this meant that things were looking up just a little.

**00000**

**I remember Shadow Stalker was supposedly tolerated in part because her power was supposed to be somewhat useful against an Endbringer. However I don't remember the whats and whys of that. Do any of you readers remember? If you do please IM me the info or leave it in a review. It would be pretty useful for me to have that info for the next chapter. **

**What did you think of this chapter? How do you think the story is going? Leave me a review and let me know :D **


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